


Heart-shaped Atrocities (or, Valentine's Day for Nonbelievers)

by FrancescaMonterone



Series: Singularities Verse [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Academy Era, Chris is having a horrible day, Chris just wants some chocolate, Cultural Differences, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Friendship, Horrible Gift Ideas, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Too many red roses, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancescaMonterone/pseuds/FrancescaMonterone
Summary: "Cadet Uhura," Chris said with a sigh, leaning forward in his chair, "it seems to me that your entire argument boils down to 'he is mean and pulled my hair, and now I want you to play Dad and punish him'."- This is turning out to be a very bad Valentine's Day for Captain Christopher Pike -





	

**Author's Note:**

> I HATE Valentine's Day. With a passion.  
> So, if you happen to be a hopeless romantic looking for a fluffy, lovey-dovey Valentine's Day story of flowers and kisses and romance, go away. This is not your story.

It began, like nearly all miserable days in his life, with a generous dose of the terror named James Tiberius Kirk.

By now, Chris had lost count of how many times he had already cursed the day he had scraped the boy off a table in a seedy bar in Riverside, Iowa, and told him to enlist in Starfleet. He had to have done something in a former life that had seriously enraged a vengeful deity; it was really the only logical explanation for the karmic retribution directed at him in the form of Jim Kirk.

The shrill alarm sound from the nearby comm terminal woke him at 04:02 am. The bed next to him was cold and empty, a spontaneous night-shift had robbed him of his partner/ human teddy-bear, and that in itself was enough reason to make Chris loathe waking up. The early hour didn't help.

Nor did the reason behind the call.

 

_"What in the name of...!_

_-_

_Oh. Yes, sir. Good morning._

_-_

_No, I hadn't heard from him yet - what?! No, absolutely not._

_-_

_I understand, sir. Yes, I'll talk to him._

_-_

_Of course. Thank you for letting me know. Have a good day."_

 

Chris stared at the comm terminal, thinking that he would _murder_ Jim Kirk and not even bother to hide his body, because it was fully justified, and nobody would be able to blame him.

He met the terror-in-human-form an hour later, when Jim appeared on his doorstep looking like a wet and bedraggled cat. He was only half-dressed, and shivering, because it was a cold morning. Chris felt that he deserved it. Karmic retribution and all that.

Nevertheless, he let Jim into the house.

"I'm sorry." He _did_ sound contrite. A little bit at least.

Chris heaved a heavy sigh.

"If you have to sleep around to prove something to yourself or others, Jim, _please_ make sure that _Admiral Alexander Marcus_ doesn't walk in on you having acrobatic sex with his daughter."

"It wasn't like that!" Jim protested, red-faced with embarrassment and indignation. "We're dating! She's my girlfriend."

News to him. Last week, Jim had been seen in tight embrace with a very blond cadet in engineering track. "Oh? And when did that happen?"

"Erm... the day before yesterday...?"

Chris groaned.

"I need coffee."

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe it wasn't just one malevolent deity. Maybe the entire universe hated him.

It certainly seemed so when he entered his office and found that not one, but _two_ counseling sessions had been scheduled for him that morning.

Chris loved his job, and his kids, as he privately called the cadets he had personally recruited and many of which he mentored throughout their time at the Academy. He really did.

But counseling sessions that involved their romantic entanglements were one thing, and one thing only: terribly awkward for everyone involved. And he only had to look at the two names marked on his calendar to know what this was about.

_08:30 AM : Commander Spock_

_09:00 AM : Cadet Nyota Uhura_

Chris sighed, steeling himself for not one but  _two_ unpleasant conversations, and got himself another cup of coffee, just in time before Spock arrived, immaculate and blank-faced as ever, but inwardly seething.

"Captain, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Anytime, Spock."

"I am afraid, the reason for my visit is not a pleasant one, Captain," Spock said gravely. "I need to bring a serious regulation breach to your attention."

Knowing Spock, it was probably something to do with somebody not having filed a form in triplicate.

"That sounds rather grim. Does it relate to one of your cadets?"

"Indeed. Cadet Nyota Uhura."

_Why am I not surprised?_

"I am surprised, Spock. She always seemed like a model student to me."

"It does not concern her academic performance, sir." Was it his imagination, or did Spock look a little flustered? "She... well, I believe the human expression would be 'she asked me out'."

"Oh," Chris said, for lack of anything better to say.

"It is against Academy regulations for an instructor to enter into any form of romantic or sexual relationship with a student. It is furthermore against Starfleet regulations for any officer to enter into such relations with a subordinate."

Perfectly true, Chris had to admit. However... "I am sure Cadet Uhura meant no harm. She might not be as familiar with regulations as you are, considering that this is only her first year at the Academy." _That, or she might simply not care about regulations, because she has had a crush the size of Jupiter on you since day one..._

"I immediately informed her of her misstep," Spock said primly. He looked very, very uncomfortable in his skin. Apparently, Uhura's proposal had rattled him more than he tried to let on.

_Oh dear, I bet that went over well..._

"She did not seem to understand the severity of her misconduct even after I explained the regulations to her. Frankly, I don't think she _wanted_ to understand me."

_Well, of course not, Spock, the girl is in love with you...!_

"What exactly did she say, Spock?"

"Two days ago, after class, she asked me if I would have dinner with her. I believe it was somehow related to today's holiday celebrations - Valentine's Day?"

 _Damn._ Chris hated Valentine's Day. In his opinion, it was the most idiotic holiday humanity had ever come up with, and that was to say something. Leonard, saint that he was, had tactfully let him get away with forgetting the holiday altogether this year, but _of course_ the kids had to remind him of it.

Spock apparently caught his pained expression. "It seems a very irrational holiday to me."

"It is a _completely_ irrational holiday, Spock, no arguments there. But many people around here place some importance in it, and I am guessing Cadet Uhura is one of them. You probably hurt her feelings by refusing her outright, even if it was the correct thing to do as per the regulations."

"That was not my intention," Spock said stiffly.

"No, I am sure it wasn't."

"I am... uncomfortable with Cadet Uhura's apparent romantic interest in me," Spock admitted.

_No kidding._

"I will speak to her and ask her to respect your personal boundaries and Academy regulations," Chris suggested, thinking: _there's no way around it, really._ "Fair enough?"

Spock nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Spock left with a little time to spare before his next appointment, but if Chris had thought that he would be able to use that time to get some paperwork done, he was sorely mistaken. The Vulcan had barely left when the door swung open, admitting a flash of green skin and orange curls hidden behind what had to be the known universe's largest bouquet of long-stem roses.

"Captain Pike, sir!" Gaila was a little out of breath. "Apparently, today is a human holiday where you give all the people you like flowers and presents!"

"Uh - yes?"

The bouquet danced in front of him as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

"That is _such_ a nice custom."

"Well..."

"I read that flowers are an important part of human courtship rituals," Gaila told him happily, "apparently, several flower languages were developed over the course of human history. Isn't that neat? Red roses are supposed to mean _'love'_ , but from what I gathered observing the human cadets, they mostly mean _'I want to have sex with you'._ "

She was probably right at that.

"So I decided to give roses to all the people I like and would like to have sex with," Gaila concluded, awkwardly shuffling the bouquet to one side and dropping a single red rose onto his desk.

Chris stared at it. Then at the smiling Orion.

He was quite speechless for a moment.

"Gaila that is... uh... Well, it is _completely inappropriate!_ I am your academic adviser, and I am also in a committed relationship, and there are a hundred more reasons why this is... no! Take the rose back!"

Gaila frowned. "I didn't say I wanted to have sex with you right now," she pouted. "It's more of a sort of hypothetical declaration of affectionate intent."

Chris rubbed his temples. "Affectionate intent."

"Yes, sir." She beamed at him.

"I hate my life," Chris muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

Intercultural competence and tolerance, Chris reminded himself. Very important. Yes.

"Nothing, Gaila. Thank you."

 

* * *

 

 

Cadet Uhura's complaint, it seemed, was more closely related to her academic pursuits than to Starfleet regulations. She also eyed the rose on his desk with unabashed curiosity.

"Don't even ask," Chris warned her. "Now. I understand that you have a complaint regarding Commander Spock's teaching methods. What is the problem?"

"Well, today is Valentine's Day," Uhura began.

"I hadn't noticed," Chris said drily. "And...?"

"Everybody was talking about it in class yesterday. Commander Spock said that since we were so obviously interested in the history of St. Valentine, and since his feast day was apparently an event of great cultural significance for humans, it would only be fair that we shared it with our non-human classmates."

"That's surprisingly thoughtful of him."

"Wait." Uhura said, raising a finger. "I'm not done yet. He then asked several cadets to recount the history of the holiday, but it turned out that nobody had any real idea beyond _'some early Christian martyr's feast day, and he later became associated with romantic love'._ Commander Spock then professed his astonishment at our ignorance and said that this would not do, because we could hardly explain the cultural significance of a holiday, if we did not know its origins."

"Uh-oh." He could see where this was headed. It was typical Spock-fashion of proving a point to his ignorant human audience.

"Exactly. So he tasked us with doing research and identifying credible text sources - which is ridiculous when you are speaking of a more or less mythical Christian martyr, who may actually be a conglomerate of several different people, or worse - entirely made up. Nevertheless, McKenzie and Cavallino came up with several medieval hagiographies. They were quite pleased with themselves. And guess what Spock did?

He smiled - actually smiled! - at them, and it was creepy as hell; and then he politely asked each of us to translate the texts into a different non-Terran language. Verbally.

Have you any idea what a pain it is to translate parts of the _Legenda Aurea_ into Klingon?"

"No," Chris replied honestly, "but I'm willing to believe you that it is quite tedious."

"Try 'horrible and completely pointless'," the young woman fumed.

"Cadet Uhura," Chris said with a sigh, leaning forward in his chair, "it seems to me that your entire argument boils down to _'he is mean and pulled my hair, and now I want you to play Dad and punish him'._ Well, here's the deal: I am not your father. Nor Commander Spock's, for that matter. You are both adults, and among the smartest people I know, and I expect you to act accordingly and resolve your personal problems in a civilized and timely manner."

She blushed, and opened her mouth to protest, but apparently thought better of it before the words escaped her. Which proved Chris' point; she really was clever.

"Off the record," he said. "Spock is positively terrified of romantic gestures. You put the fear of God into him with your suggestion of a romantic dinner."

Her beautiful dark eyes grew large and round. "Really?"

Chris nodded. "Yes. And might I suggest that you cut the Commander some slack and tread a bit more lightly in the future, because he is perfectly right, it is against regulations for you to proposition him. I also need him with his wits intact, and being actively pursued by a very beautiful and very determined young woman does nothing for them."

"But..."

"Let it lie, Uhura."

 _At least until you are both out of my hair_ , he added privately.

 

* * *

 

 

Lunchtime brought no relief.

Chris had been looking forward to his bi-weekly lunch with his old friend and former CMO Philip Boyce, but he had not reckoned with the ingeniously evil creativity that the occasion of Valentine's Day brought out in Starfleet Academy's canteen staff.

Not only was most of the room _decorated_ (in his mind, Chris replaced that with some other words, such as _defiled_ ) with flowers and honest-to-God balloons (those had to be a fire hazard, he'd have to talk to building management about that and get them removed). There was also music playing, and even though he emphatically tried not to make out any of the lyrics, he recognized it as the kind of sappy garbage generally considered 'romantic'.

Sufficient to say, it did not put Chris in a romantic mood. It made him want to viciously mutilate somebody (preferably the composer).

"I am certain this qualifies as a severe human rights violation," he muttered as they joined the queue that was slowly moving towards the buffet and the replicators.

"What was that?" Boyce asked.

"Sound torture is a type of psychological warfare used to break the will of prisoners," Chris clarified.

Boyce chuckled. "That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but yeah, the music is pretty terrible. It's only for one day, though, so I suppose we'll survive."

"You wouldn't say that if you had had my morning," Chris grumbled.

"Food will make it better. It usually does."

Chris was inclined to agree with that assessment - until he saw what the kitchen had come up with to mark the 'special occasion.'

"Oh no. Hell no. That is just wrong! Meat products should never, ever come in heart-shaped form!"

Boyce eyed the offensively shaped steaks speculatively. "Unless they actually are, that is. Hearts, I mean. Many cuisines, including various traditional Terran cuisines, use innards to great culinary success."

"Ugh."

"It's funny, though, isn't it?" Boyce continued, apparently unconcerned by his friend's appalled look. "The shape we consider to be heart-shaped has almost nothing to do with the actual shape of a human heart. That even surprises my first-year medical students, occasionally. I always make them take out the heart, measure it and take a good look at it, during their first post-mortem. After all, a good number of them may go on to one day perform surgery on a human heart."

"Phil!" Chris interrupted him. "I have the greatest respect for your profession, but I _do_ _not_ want to discuss open heart surgery at lunch. Nor autopsies, for that matter."

Boyce shrugged. "No reason to be squeamish, Chris, it's just an organ... oh look, bacon flowers. I believe they are supposed to be roses."

Chris groaned and pressed a hand against his front feeling an oncoming headache.

"I'll take the vegetarian option, thanks."

Which turned out to be a pretty decent risotto. Unsurprisingly, though, some evil kitchen genius had cut various vegetables into flowers and arranged them lovingly at the edge of the plate. Chris stabbed at them rather viciously.

"Dessert?" Boyce asked.

"Please. Something with chocolate." Chocolate would help. Chocolate helped against almost anything, his cadets had taught him; from the common cold to the impeding apocalypse.

But when Boyce returned - "What in the name of all that's holy is _that_?"

It was appalling. Terrifying. Too monstrous to be described.

"It said _'rose-glazed chocolate cake'_." Phil turned the plate in his hands as he examined it. "I'll admit that it's a little... too pink, maybe."

Chris decided that he wasn't that hungry after all, and fled.

 

* * *

 

 

He had an hour of blissful, undisturbed peace in his office, alone with his paperwork, a cup of coffee, _and no red roses_ ; until his next class...

... during which he had to expel two cadets for conduct unbecoming, after breaking up a fight that had erupted when Cadet Cho mistakenly received a message from Cadet Karimi, her boyfriend of two months, ostensibly addressed to another female cadet.

Which confirmed Chris'  suspicion: most of his cadets were blistering idiots, and raging hormones did nothing to improve their situation.

"Moving on," Chris told the class sternly, after removing both Cho and Karimi from the room and sending them to their respective advisers, who would dole out appropriate punishment (or so he hoped).

It was during a rather lukewarm discussion of behavioral theories of leadership, rather unbefitting of the Federation's brightest young minds (ha!), that he received a text from Number One.

_URGENT! Something horrible has happened and I need your help. I'll wait for you in your office._

 

* * *

 

 

With a certain sense of foreboding, Chris returned to his office after class, and the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach did not deceive him.

Number One was curled up in his chair, looking smaller and more vulnerable than an officer of her rank and stature had any right to. There was a large box of pralines open on his desk, and a tell-tale smear of chocolate on her chin told him that she had already helped herself to some of them.

She was also crying, which alarmed Chris.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she sniffed, dabbing at her face with a paper handkerchief.

"Okay. Good." He paused, unsure how to proceed. "What's the emergency?"

"Daisy doesn't want to marry me."

"Yes," Chris said slowly, because it had long been a contested point between Number One and her girlfriend, who had fundamentally different opinions about the institution of marriage.

"But today is Valentine's Day, and I thought if I asked her today, and in a very special way, then maybe she'd say yes... and apparently I did it all wrong, and now she _hates_ me." Fresh tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.

 _Why me?_ Chris asked the immortal powers of the universe. _What have I done to deserve this?_

"I am sure she doesn't hate you," he said aloud. "What happened?"

She _was_ his best friend, after all. It was his duty to loyally stand by her side through all hardships... even the extremely silly, self-inflicted ones.

"I wanted it to be special," Number One sniffed. "Just right. So, you know how Daisy's been on a bit of an eco-trip lately?"

 _'A bit'_ was an extremely friendly understatement. It was impossible to have a conversation with her without being reminded of the plight of farm animals or the impact of dilithium mining on fragile ecosystems.

Chris nodded.

"Well, she's been going on about how cut flowers are stupid, and a waste of resources and so on. So I got her these special eco-friendly paper flowers. Did you know that they make paper out of elephant dung, Chris?"

Chris stared at her. "You _didn't_."

"It was a nice bouquet." She shrugged. "A bit unusual, maybe, but very nice. And then I got her something a bit more traditional as well. People give rings here, but on my world, the couples' hands are ceremonially tied with green rope during the wedding ceremony. The rope symbolizes the bond between them. It's displayed proudly in every married couples' home. " She smiled a watery smile. "I got Daisy some very nice green silk rope. She can wear it as a belt, until the ceremony." She paused, thoughtfully. "Of course, it could also be used in bondage..."

"Oh God, please don't go there...!" Chris pleaded, reaching for the chocolate.

Another shrug. "Okay. Anyway, Daisy was not happy. Really not happy." She shook her head.

Chris ate two pieces of chocolate, deliberating. Number One had given Daisy, who was a commitment-phobe if he had ever met one, a symbol of precisely the thing she feared most about marriage, and still managed to be surprised by her reaction.

There was a certain twisted ingenuity to it.

Then, as carefully as he could, he said: "Number One? That is a truly _horrible_ gift idea."

She looked up, eyes red. "You think so?"

"Yes. Now go back to your girlfriend, apologize, and tell her you love her. She'll forgive you. Most likely."

 _After a suitable amount of grovelling,_  he added silently.

"Are you sure?" Hope shone on her face.

"Yes. Now shoo! And leave the chocolate..."

 

* * *

 

 

His last visitor of the day was Admiral Jonathan Archer, who had heard about that morning's accidental revelation of Marcus family secrets and came to laugh about it.

"It wasn't funny," Chris growled. "Really. Have you ever seen Alex really angry? No? Well, sufficient to say, I'm surprised Jim came out of the experience alive and with all of his body parts still attached and intact."

Archer chuckled. "Ah, to be young again...!"

"No, thanks. Been there, done that, don't need to do it again." Chris shuddered at the thought. He had had enough youthful indiscretions for one day.

"So. What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" Archer asked.

"I'm going to go home early," Chris said. "Eat dinner, take a bath, lock myself in the bedroom and throw away the key. And next year, I am taking February 14 off and spending it in the remotest, most hostile environment I can find. Maybe Delta Vega."

But that only made his old friend laugh harder.

Chris sighed and reached for the box of pralines.

It wasn't where he had left it.

He looked around and - "Jon," Chris groaned, "you stupid dog has eaten my chocolate, and it was literally the only good thing about today."

Archer looked up and at the tail-wagging beagle with mild interest. "Oh! So it seems," he said, apparently unconcerned.

"Judging from past experience, he is going to throw up on my carpet in approximately 2.5 minutes," Chris said. "Also: He. Ate. My. Chocolate."

"Too much chocolate isn't good for you, Chris," Archer told him loftily.

Chris ground his teeth. Loudly.

"Please excuse me now. I need to go drown some kittens and burn a few lovers at the stake."

Archer's laughter followed him as he stormed out of his own office.

 

* * *

 

 

Home, sweet and quiet home.

There were no silly cadets, no crying friends, no chocolate-stealing dogs.

Just blissful peace and quiet.

Joanna was staying with her mother for a few days, and Pavel was at soccer practice, and also a teenager and old enough to walk home alone and fix his own dinner (not that he ever had to, Chris saw to that).

Leonard was in the living room, stretched out comfortably on the sofa with a PADD and probably reading some mind-numbingly boring research paper about Denobulan gastrointestinal viruses, or something of the sort.

Chris fixed himself a sandwich and sat down in the armchair.

"Busy day?" Leonard asked, looking up with a small smile.

"The worst."

"Yeah, I heard about your early morning call with Admiral Marcus." He winced slightly. "I'm really sorry about that. If it helps, I already yelled at Jim a bit."

"That doesn't erase the embarrassment, but I appreciate the gesture," Chris said.

"For what it's worth, I think he actually likes the girl."

"That's what he said about the last three, too," Chris reminded him. Then he frowned. "When did we become Jim Kirk's surrogate parents...?"

"I have no idea. But it's a terrifying thought."

Chris pushed his plate away. "I hate my life," he said with conviction.

Leonard made a sympathetic sound. "I got you some chocolate. After all, it's..."

"Leonard," Chris interrupted him, "if you finish that sentence and say what I think you are about to say, I will murder you. Brutally, with my bare hands."

"Okay, okay." Leonard raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "I won't say the bad words, I promise. I actually got you the chocolate, because Admiral Archer - can you believe it? - sent me a message about it. Apparently his dog ate yours?"

"That was the final straw, yes." Chris said, holding out his hand, palm up. "I'll take that chocolate, now. And a hug. A long hug. Possibly evolving into cuddling. I've _earned_ it."

Leonard smiled and obliged.


End file.
